Lyrical Breakdown of Tookie Knows II - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Tookie Knows II" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how ScHoolboy Q feat. Traffic & T&F weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Tookie Knows II" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that ScHoolboy Q feat. Traffic & T&F employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to ScHoolboy Q feat. Traffic & T&F's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Tookie Knows II" not only celebrates ScHoolboy Q feat. Traffic & T&F's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

Oh, we might die for this shit, nigga

Uh, might go down for this shit, nigga

Gang, gang bangin' that Crip shit

Niggas said cuz in the first grade

In the shade where the cops can't see us

Eighteen, tryna dodge the cage

It was cool 'til that gang sweep

Now I'm in back of a van

And my wrists got a band

Got a number for a name

No name on the Visa, no card get accepted

Now I'm forced to a man

Murder raps, where you from?

Put the nigga on his pockets

Watch the COs, they be watchin'

County news for the hustle

County spread for the muscle

Couple marks on my knuckles

Puttin' niggas on bunk status

Shoulda been with the bitch ass

Now he on a mattress that we bench press

PC, get the Fruit Loops

Keep tellin' on niggas

Why I fuck with that nigga?

Nigga made bail but I'm still at rage

Should I thank God for the hell I raised?

Cause the nigga that snitch is gonna feel that grave

Like, ain't nothin' to a locc, huh?

Went missin' to his folks, I ain't in, I ain't know, huh?

They ain't show up to the court, huh?

But then charges gotta go, huh?

A young nigga back on Fig

H-crown on wig

Shoe strings say where I'm from

On probation and got my gun

Other side goin' for that thumb

Motherfucker, I'm gangbanging

Nigga I'm blue'd up, blue Chucks

Blue tee, nigga I keep it G

Nigga, in the streets is where I be

I'm up like breakfast while niggas sleep

Me and Floyd posted on Fig

Getting it in and movin' it out

I'm holdin' the heat, he's watchin' the block

I'm watchin' for cops, I'm holdin' these rocks

Fiends keep comin', this shit don't stop

When it's war time, niggas get popped

We might die for this shit off tops

My nigga gonna ride for this Crip, no lie

But I ain't dead, yeah, nigga, thank God

Money got niggas lookin' at me all odd

Punk ass niggas better go get a job

Run up on me wrong, bitch, nigga get popped

I'm gon' ride for this shit, on Crip

A nigga gon' die for this shit then trip

4/5th extendo, with fifty in the clip

TF by my side, he stupid with this shit

Q in the ride grippin' on the fifth

Run up on me wrong

My nigga, my nigga, my nigga, I'm gang banging

Uh, might go down for this check, nigga

Uh, I might die for this set, nigga

I ain't trippin nigga, I ain't slippin'

Niggas lyin' sayin' I ain't Crippin'

Back to back, me and Tiny smack

I said back to back, straight cups of 'gnac

Niggas ask, what he signed for?

I got an eight ball, I got a Rondo

I got an AK when that bitch spray

It's like pullin' strings on a lawnmower

Last time I seen jail, nigga

I was cell livin', getting mail in it

I ain't even talkin' mail, nigga

Pay-pals for the cell, nigga

Hit the streets and cause hell, huh?

School of hard knocks, fuck Yale, huh?

See me and Traffic like a orca nigga

And the black and whites love whale watch

Front line like mailboxes

5-12, that's the numbers on it

May first, May deuce, May twelfth, members only

.45, no numbers on it

Scratched down, I'm strapped down

Might go down for this shit

If I don't then I'm racked down

Rank up there with Shaq crown

I got a Benji button like Brad Pitt

I press that, I'm gettin' rich

I might go down for this shit

We might die for this shit nigga

Might go down for this shit nigga

Gang, gang bangin' that Crip shit

We might die for this shit nigga